A Guardian's Fate (Book #2)

Chapter Three

"What do you do out there, Henry?" she asked. He was stunned by how gentle she sounded.

Henry wiped his clammy palms down on his pants, unsure how to answer that.

"He's merely dreaming of the day he can get back on a ship that will whisk him away to Aristol," Victor answered, chuckling in-between his words.

"I think I am done here," Henry said, pushing his chair back and standing.

His youngest brother, Stephan, stared up with his wide, sad eyes. Henry nearly sat back down for him.

Then their mother gestured to Henry's plate. "You haven't eaten anything."

"I apologize, Mother. I suppose I am not hungry tonight." Henry forcefully slid his eyes to Victor again. "May I be excused, Brother?"

Victor smiled sweetly at him and nodded. "Of course, little brother. I believe some time in your bedchamber will do you well."

Henry swallowed hard. That tone didn't settle well with him, but he nodded and left without another word. He figured he was merely overthinking it. However, as he walked away, he heard whispers being exchanged between Victor and their mother. He couldn't quite make out anything except his name, like they wanted to ensure he at least knew they were talking about him.

Henry exited the dining hall and headed up from the staircase on his right. He pulled the coin out from his pocket and flicked it into the air as he walked through the dark corridor leading to his bedchamber.

The winds of the storm were hammering against the windows, threatening to crash through. Henry paused a few times to watch thin tree branches wildly slap and scrap the glass. He could see the gray clouds darkening, reminding him of the docks, and his heart quivered. Longingly.

He walked onward instead.

"Good evening, Gyfford," Henry greeted the usual guard posted nearby.

"Good evening, Your Highness," the older man kindly responded. Then his stern expression returned, deepening his permanently aging lines. It was like Henry wasn't there anymore.

Henry stuffed his coin away and entered his bedchamber, mindlessly shutting the door behind him. Although he noted that the candles along the walls and on the tables had been lit, he thought little of it, figuring it must have been one of the servants. He crossed the area to reach his bed when he finally noticed the silhouette of a person sitting on it. His breath hitched, and the cry he wanted to let out to Gyfford got caught in his throat.

"I was wondering when you were going to return," they spoke.

Henry's blood went cold. He knew that voice.

She got to her feet and walked up to him. He listened to the brush of her skirts against the white marble floor, and he instinctively took a step back. Then she stepped into the light. Despite having not seen her in some years, he recognized her well. She'd changed, yet she also hadn't changed at all. At least her smile certainly hadn't.

"Jasmine," he addressed.

Jasmine Abalos—the youngest sister of one of his mother's ladies.

Jasmine widened her grin. She brushed her black hair forward and twirled a strand around her forefinger as she stopped walking, barely keeping any inches between them. Then she grabbed his arms and stared up at him with her gray-blue eyes.

"I figured you would want some company," Victor spoke from behind.

Henry spun, dropping Jasmine's hands from his arms. Victor smirked at him from the doorway. Henry blinked, wondering how his brother had managed to sneak up on him like that. He hadn't heard a thing. And he winced as he remembered Victor teaching him to always be aware of his surroundings. He'd been taken by surprise twice already, too distracted by his own pathetic thoughts. Fortunately, Victor didn't seem to notice or care.